Fallen Angels
by mistopurr
Summary: A shadow fell long ago on Greenwood the Great, and now it is Mirkwood, home not only to the Elves, but also to the minions of Sauron. Inside are words shared between a father and a son: words of despair, words of defeat, words of lost hope.


**Disclaimer: I own none of these characters; they all belong to J.R.R Tolkien. I am only borrowing them for a while, and am making no money off this. **

_Blood has dried on my hands. How strange that I should notice it now, when I am safe in my home, far away from the remains of today's battle. Then, it seemed irrelevant. But now I am fascinated by it, as a child is fascinated by a new toy. Does that not sound morbid? But the thought dwells in my mind only for a second, for it is pushed away by more pressing matters. _

"Very well, I will now hear your report."

_The voice cuts into my thoughts, making me snap my eyes up in surprise. I gaze into the silver eyes in front of me, and wish desperately that I could see joy in them once more. It has been long indeed since anyone saw that. Now there is only grief, mingled with fear and hate. And even as I stand here, I begin to see the first flashes of defeat. _

"Do you think that we have all night to tarry?"

_There it is again: the voice that was once so loving and tender is now cold and hard. I exhale deeply, and shake my head. _"Forgive me, my Lord. I….I was distracted."

"Would that be your claim if the arrow of an enemy struck you down during battle because your attention crept elsewhere? I think not. You should have learnt long ago that even in the walls of your own home, there is little safety to be found. Now, your report?"

"Yes, my Lord. Five were found dead today; seven yesterday; three the day before."

"All our own soldiers?"

"Possibly."

"Meaning?"

"As of yet, not all have been identified."

"And those who have?"

"Ithilen, Suithien, Vehiron, Ameldir and…"

"And?"

_I continue to reel off the names of the fallen Elves. For a life to be lost is a tragic thing, but when it is that of an immortal being, the grief should be tenfold. The trees should sing songs of mourning; the laments of my people should ring through my father's halls; tears should fall from many eyes. But they do not. Not any more. _

"How many patrols did you take out?"

"Three, Your Highness. My own, and those under the command of Inhalen and Tarian."

"Why did you take those of your brothers?"

"They are not here. You sent them away, Your Highness, because-

"We…we need help."

"That is so."

_He admitted it. The King has finally admitted that we are fighting a losing battle. For years now, we have tried to defeat the darkness spreading through our forest, and for years, he has believed that he can do it on his own, without the aide of the other Elven-lords and their armies. _

_No, I suppose that is not right. He knew that he needed help, but he is proud, my father, the King. When he became ruler of this realm, after one of the most famous battles of our time, during which his own father died, there was much scepticism. But then, why should there not be? He was young, inexperienced. He still is, when compared to the two other rulers of the world's Elven realms._

"I should have sent for help a long time back," the King murmurs. "There are mere children fighting out there. You are one of them."

"We fight for you," I reply carefully. "There is not one warrior who places his life above this realm. And, with all due respect, Your Highness, I am no child."

The King looks at me and smiles, but his eyes remain sad. "No. You had your childhood taken. Your brothers were lucky in that they were born early enough to see the beauty of this forest. They could walk through the trees without having to constantly look over their shoulders. But you, you did not have that."

_He speaks the truth. The Dark Lord built his stronghold on the southern border of our forest just a few months before I was born. His minions are always on the move, always hunting for the blood of the Firstborn. So many immortals have been lost. And that is why tears are no longer shed – because death has become part of our lives. _

_I watch as my father gestures to a page standing at the back of the room. The servant comes forward and pours some wine into two goblets, and as the crimson liquid flows, I am horribly reminded of the bloodshed from earlier today. Where the blood of my comrades fell, flowers shall bloom. But where the black blood of our foes lie, there will never again be anything of beauty. _

"Drink this," the King says, pushing a goblet towards me.

_Now that the reports of today's battle are over with, so are the formalities. I sit down in a chair opposite him and take the proffered goblet, but I do not drink from it. I cannot, for I could be called back out to fight at any time. It would be no good for the soldiers to see their Prince under the influence of such a substance. _

_There was a time when we could go out into the forest of a summer's eve, and have grand feasts under the stars. Yes, there was always the threat of the Dark Lord, but the birds and the trees would warn us if danger drew near. Now though, He is so strong that the only ones to venture outside the safe confines of the palace without protection are the very brave. Or the very foolish. _

"Will they come?" I ask softly. "More warriors, I mean."

The King is silent for a moment, and his eyes are cold. He smiles, and shakes his head – it is an act of despair. "No. The old alliances are dead."

"Father-

"I say nothing but the truth," he cuts in. "You know this, everyone does."

"The events at the Last Alliance were not your fault," I reply carefully. "Your father was like you – proud. Forgive my bluntness, but it is true. He could not bear to march under the banner of another Lord, and he rebelled against the commands issued."

"I know all this," the King hisses. "I was there."

"Then, you must know also that he was the one who charged before the orders were given. His premature assault on the Dark Lord destroyed nearly all of our people," I press on desperately. "What could you do to stop him? Nothing. And that is well known. You think that you are blamed, but it is not so. If anything, you are pitied."

_Without saying another word, the King rises from his chair, and flings a light cloak around his shoulders. I stare at him, trying to catch his eye, but he does not even acknowledge me. What hope he once held for victory is fading. All hope of defeating the Dark Lord is diminishing. _

_As he pulls off the silver circlet resting on his head, and flings it to the ground, tears of frustration fill my eyes. He does not notice. Instead, he turns on his heel, and walks through the doors and onto the balcony. And as he does so, my tears escape their prison. _

"Lost in the middle of this war, there is no right direction," I whisper, to no-one. "There is no hope, no light. Only blood. Only death. All we can do is wait."

_Just as I stand to leave for my own chambers, the balcony doors crash open, and my father comes back in. Horror dances through his eyes, and as he sinks down into a chair, he shakes his head helplessly. I am still for a moment – I do not wish to know what new terror is outside, but I know I cannot escape it. _

"It is over," he says softly.

_I take a deep breath, and close my eyes tightly as I walk out onto the balcony. Like every night for as far back as I can remember, the weather is bad. Screaming wind grabs my long hair, and flings it into my face. My vision is slighted until I throw the golden strands out of my eyes. I wish that my hand had remained by my side. For my gaze goes down to the courtyard, and what it lands on makes me sick with fear. _

_It is over. _

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **This is only a one chapter fic. Basically, my English coursework was creative writing, so I thought that I would write a fanfiction for it. And I did. I think it's pretty obvious that the two characters, although they weren't named, were Thranduil and Legolas. This story is not going to be continued. The ending is like it is because one of the things that had to happen in the piece of creative writing was a cliffhanger. So I'll leave it up to you to decide what made the two of them despair. I'm aware that its quite OOC for both of them to totally lose hope like that, but I prefer to look on it as only a momentary thing, and as soon as they've recovered from the shock of whatever it is they've seen, they're back to normal, and prepared to fight and defend their people.

I posted this short piece of writing on mainly for people who are waiting for me to start posting my next major story. I know it's been a while since you've seen anything of me, and I also know I said that I'd start posting as of the end of January. Unfortunately, that hasn't been possible, what with college work, work at my local McDonald's, and the show that I'm doing with a touring theatre company. I dedicate all of my spare time (I know I should get a life!) to writing my fanfic though, and hopefully I will be able to start posting soon.

Reviews would be especially appreciated for this work, as it is work that will be marked by an examiner, and will contribute to my final AS grade.

Hope to be back soon!

Misto


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